


Heat of the Moment

by kuro49



Series: jason rare pair challenge [22]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: 24/7 bdsm lifestyle, Bottom Jason Todd, Double Anal Penetration, Impact Play, M/M, Multi, Painplay, Praise Kink, Subspace, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:09:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27388495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: From the very beginning, Jason already made a name for himself in the community as the sub that is notoriously hard to put down. He hated feeling this way. To be the last one picked out of the proverbial crowd. To be an abnormality among what was already so far outside of the norms.Roman did not believe in that. And Slade, well, Roman knew Slade always wanted a challenge.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Roman Sionis/Jason Todd, Roman Sionis/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson
Series: jason rare pair challenge [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1409680
Comments: 12
Kudos: 88
Collections: Batfam Kinkmas Exchange 2020, Jason Todd Rare Pair Challenge





	Heat of the Moment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forestgreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestgreen/gifts).



> this is a combination of some very spectacular prompts: pain slut jason being a sub who's very difficult to put down but once he's down is very obedient and eager to please for dom slade + sane, safe and consensual with jason and roman being in 24/7 established BDSM relationship that works for both them. 
> 
> mentions of fucking machine, spitroasting, come inflation, light bondage but none of them are really explored in much depth so i didn't think they warrant an actual tag in the fic. 
> 
> the biggest fucking thank you to OA for the beta 💖 and the mods for hosting another kinkmas exchange 💖💖

This is different, but the same.

Not quite the kind of galas his own family hosts but there is a lot of the same kind of money behind this too.

When a hand is offered, he takes it and he shakes it with a pleasant smile pulling neatly and politely across his mouth. Not too much teeth to be intimidating but not all lips either. Red and wet and full. That's reserved for his Master and Sir, for when he's down on both knees with his mouth parted for their use.

This isn't that.

This is him making his own introduction as a friend of Mr. Sionis and Mr. Wilson, tipping his head to a clear line of shot where Roman and Slade are engaged in small talk with a couple of other associates that run in the same circle of business as them. And it's not just nerves that keep Jason from making eye contact with either one of them.

It's etiquette. 

And that's not just taught, it's learned.

The servers with the empty hors d'oeuvre trays dissipate from the room as the dinning area opens up for everyone to find their seat.

Jason makes an easy excuse to extricate himself from his own conversation, his heart never once in it, his mouth still etched in that tiny polite thing while his head kept nodding at just the right intervals to keep the discussion going. When he looks for Roman and Slade again, they are there already and he follows their lead easily from across the room. His steps always in time with theirs, and he is just behind them as they find their table.

His seat is resting naturally between theirs.

He sits as they do.

For their very first time, Jason didn't actually meet them until the scene was all done.

It took Jason a long time to get here. To accept that he was a submissive by nature. To take that first step to finding someone who wouldn't mind giving him what he wanted. And he wanted it bad.

The False Face Club was owned by Roman Sionis, that much Jason did know. The club was members only, and Jason wasn't a member but sometimes the Wayne name opened far more doors than it should. And being told the owner thought he personally had a good match in mind for Jason brought his hopes up in a way that he never allowed himself.

From the very beginning, Jason Todd had already made a name for himself in the community as the sub that is notoriously hard to put down. And he hated feeling this way. To be the last one picked out of the proverbial crowd. To be an abnormality among what was already so far outside of the norms.

Roman did not believe in that.

And Slade, well, Roman knew Slade always wanted a challenge.

Curled up in the center of the bed in one of the club's private rooms, Jason stirred at the hand in his hair. It was not a familiar feeling even if he knew this hand by every inch of skin on his own body, knew it by the way it had him feeling not just good but better as he was plucked apart to be put back together at their whim.

"You're not too bad at all, kid."

The blindfold harness that he had on during the entire session was gone from his face. But his jaw ached the only way it would if he'd been swallowing around a ball gag for an extended period of time. He was still naked, and he hadn't seen himself yet but he knew he would only be marked by the imprints of their palms clear across his skin: From the curve of his ass to the column of his throat to up and down the inside of his thighs where they gripped him and pinned him in between them to keep him firmly spread apart as they both eased inside of him.

Jason flushed as the hand carded through to untangle his sweat-soaked locks.

"Sir," he said automatically even with his voice sounding sandpaper rough.

This was going to be the moment Jason met his doms, he realized. Belatedly. Startlingly.

They put him down, and they put him down so well. And this wasn't love at all but with the way his heart was racing, all the moisture gone from the inside of his mouth, it was like as though his body already recognized that it would have to be them or no one else.

Jason blinked open his eyes, and his brain filled in all of the building anticipation with the actual thing.

The man was big, seemed to fill up the room with just the wide breadth of his shoulders alone. And he was striking too. Silver in his hair and just one eye. Jason swallowed hard as Slade Wilson sat up next to him, careful not to crowd into his space, no excessive lingering touches that he couldn't even begin to decipher yet.

"Good to see you're up already, Jason."

He turned his head, and this too was just as easy to say: "Master."

And that was Roman Sionis, looking just as properly put together when he walked into the room as he would anywhere else. He was in his signature white, the suit crisp at every corner and pulling tight across his chest. Jason had never known the man well enough to memorize his voice, so this too was a surprise: To have the boss himself stepping in to fulfill a session for _him_. He didn't even know the man indulged in play at all.

Roman came up to the side of the bed holding out a glass of water, and he didn't need to say anything to have Jason reacting to the expectation alone. It felt like second nature for Jason to take it in his own hands, to drink it all down in quick long gulps.

"Easy, kid." Slade murmured, his gaze trained on the bob of Jason's throat as he swallowed the last swig.

A duck of his head downwards, a drag of the back of his hand to his mouth, and there was a quiet apology to slip from between Jason's lips. The scene was over, that much they all understood. But Roman still reached out to take the empty glass from Jason's hands, and Jason allowed him to do just that when his grip remained lax.

"You're doing just fine." Roman said as he placed the glass on the bedside table.

There could have been a look exchanged over the top of Jason's head or a prearranged discussion that he wasn't present for. But Jason was still smiling softly to himself over the last praise that he almost missed it as Slade tried for nonchalance: "I'd say with some practice, you'll practically be made for us."

He snapped his head up to look between the both of them. He couldn't miss the matching heat in their eyes.

It's the kind of twelve course meals that he dreads. The kind he knows will have him squirming by the time they serve the salad.

The table is full of people with faces not quite aligning with the names he's only heard in passing discussions. They smile at him, and he smiles just as easily back. From the corner of his eyes, he can see that Roman and Slade are both in the middle of a conversation with someone else. He sits still like they'd want him to and keeps himself amused. Eyes skimming along the thick velvet curtains along the back wall and the crown molding above that.

When the amuse-bouche is brought to the table, Jason keeps his hands in his lap and waits.

This is what took Jason a long time to come to realize: That his submission gives direction. It gives him purpose.

And it is a very strange and insecure thing to be when he is with his doms but cannot express his submission in all the ways that he is used to.

If this is their dining table in Roman's penthouse apartment or Slade's downtown townhouse, Jason would be able to ask for permission to eat or drink. Or, have the luxury to settle down on both knees in the spot between their chairs as they feed him from their plates. His mouth wrapping around their fingers for each bite that they would measure out just for him. His tongue laving over their skin to catch the very last taste of each morsel of exactly what they want inside of him.

He cannot do any of that here, not in the way he wants to.

It's different but equivalent when he demonstrates his submission to them all the same.

Jason waits until Roman and Slade draw back from their respective conversation to take their first bite that he begins to eat with them.

The threshold of the door doesn't hold any magic at all, but the difference feels instantaneous nonetheless as Jason steps through it.

The tense line of his spine goes lax, the rigid stiffness being held within his shoulders dissipates in slow increments as he steps further and further inside of the penthouse apartment. The privacy here is unparalleled. Even without any curtains for the windows that stretch from floor to ceiling, they are high up enough that no one else can take a peek into the way he likes to live his life when it's just the three of them.

And Jason likes to be at their mercy.

He goes directly to the bar, fetches two crystal tumblers before he heads into the kitchen. It is precisely two ice cubes in each, his fingertips cold and wet where he takes them out. This, he knows. This, he's done hundreds of times before if they keep count at all. Jason likes this. Likes the routine when he knows exactly what they want and how they like it.

They do not acknowledge him when he brings the matching tumblers back to them. He doesn't expect them to. But the appreciation is all there. It's in the graze of Roman's fingertips against his as the man takes it from him. It's in the brush of the back of Slade's hand as he reaches over for the bottle of Roman's favourite whiskey.

Two fingers each, and the amber is a gorgeous glow.

"Are you waiting for permission, boy?" Slade asks when he is recapping the bottle.

The rules are simple when it comes to Jason himself: He is boy. He is pet. He is baby and sweetheart and kid. He is also their slut, their whore, and a sloppy hole to be used when they are bored. He is everything they want him to be. And it has Jason sucking in a sharp breath out of anticipation every time.

He shakes his head, eyes lowered as he reaches out for the free arm that Slade extends towards him. "No, Sir."

Jason helps Slade out of his tailored suit jacket first, holds it in the cradle of his arm to keep it from wrinkling any further. And then he goes to Roman and does the same thing for him. It's methodical.

He takes their jackets and hangs them up to be taken for dry cleaning the next day. He comes back to undo their cufflinks and the slim ties from around their throats. He works the cufflinks open on each wrist, folds the sleeves up to Slade's forearms the way he prefers it. Swallowing hard at the sight of the muscles becoming exposed with each careful tuck of the crisp white fabric. Roman is taking another sip from his glass, and in Jason's focus, he doesn't even realize that the two of them are in the midst of a conversation until he is leaning in to loosen the stiff collar of his Master's shirt, undoing the first three buttons until his fingertips brush at the hairs over Roman's chest.

It's not just the repetition in the process that he likes.

It's knowing that they entrust anything to him at all.

It's being allowed to take care of his doms that has him practically preening.

Jason takes a step back and waits, listening for that soft noise of acknowledgment from either one of them to confirm that he didn't miss anything before he goes into the bedroom to undress. And when it comes from Sir, a dismissive little hum, Jason goes and leaves the door wide open behind him as he stands at the foot of the bed in full view of where Roman and Slade can see.

Jason starts with his own cufflinks, and the pair is specially made. One personalized with the letter _R_ while the other with the letter _S_. His fingertips trace over each one, lingering at how the subtle claim in the embossed accessories can make him go red at the most inopportune of times. He goes for the bow tie next, loosens it until he can undo the first button. He works his way down until the front of his dress shirt is splayed open.

The cross of each strap of the leather harness he had on underneath is the only thing to break up the wide expanse of skin as he drops his shirt to the ground. His fitted pair of dress pants goes next, following until he's in nothing but the tight cinch of leather pulling taut across his body.

It wraps around his chest in two thick bands, another one parallel at the narrowest part of his waist. It is all made of genuine leather, worn in with each time they had fucked him in it, held together at each perpendicular point with a gold ring. He likes where they dig in, especially the thickest ring at the small of his back. 

It's probably contradictory, that he feels more lewd wearing it under a full tailored suit than he does now when he's in nothing else. But it's like having a secret on display. Shame and guilt and embarrassment just hidden away underneath the thinnest layer of propriety. Him at his core, and ain't that just the thing to be ashamed of. 

To have Roman and Slade look at him outside of the privacy of their own space and know exactly the kind of person that he is while the rest of the world can only suspect what he likes and how he likes it. Rough and hard and _painful_. Heady to have the full weight of their gaze on him, undressing him in plain view of everyone else. Peeling him out of his clothes until he's standing naked with his cock filling up with arousal before they even lay a single finger on him.

Jason comes back to them where they sit on the sofa, working slowly through their second drink.

He slides down easily on his knees to settle right at their feet, in the alcove of space between them, left out just for him.

"You did much better than I could've expected during dinner tonight."

Roman says to him, and Jason is looking up at his Master from beneath his lashes, biting down on the sweet swell of his bottom lip to keep from whimpering. Roman is a man who will give out compliments where they are due. And tonight, Jason has been exceptional.

"No punishments for you tonight, pet."

Slade slides a hand into Jason's hair, loosening the strands from the gel that they put in to keep it slicked back. Neither one of them misses Jason's sharp intake of breath at that. Punctuated with the way he glances over to the fun little contraption they had set in a corner of the living room in full view of anyone that comes in.

That time when Jason wracked up enough trouble to warrant a fitting punishment: They had him on all fours while the fucking machine worked him over as they went about their day.

Jason remembers crying vividly, his voice going raw then hoarse before they finally fit a bright red ball gag inside of his mouth to keep him quiet altogether. Jason hates it, and maybe that's why they did it at all. Their discipline is never senseless even if Jason can't quite figure it out in that moment, and they didn't expect him to when he is overwhelmed and shaky and oversensitive from the onslaught of the machine. His body only being held up at the hips where he's secured to the thick, fake cock pounding into him.

It's relentless and without any give, drilling right to the core before pulling out just to drive back in. Knocking any attempts to breathe right out of him. Drool dripping messily from his mouth down to the floor underneath. It's too fast and too harsh and hitting none of the right spots that his Master or Sir would know by heart.

And it left him wrecked, to think that they can't even be bothered to fuck him at all.

Roman smiles with a flash of teeth, and the brown of his eyes are warm, the start of that slow growing heat as he tells him: "Just treats."

If Roman is asked to choose one thing that he likes most when it comes to Jason, well. It's simple really.

It's that Jason is an absolute slut for pain.

And if asked what it is about pain that gets Jason off so thoroughly, well. That's just as simple. It's not just psychological, it's biological too. All pain leads to the flood of endorphins in his system, and if it's coming from the hands of his Master and Sir, that's really no question at all when it induces the feeling of absolute euphoria in him.

He is over Slade's knees with the temperature of the room turned up. Warm skin is relaxed, is flexible.

Warm skin can take more.

And as he stays still over Slade's lap, his ass tipping upwards, his cock is already leaking precum against Slade's thigh.

"You can be as loud as you want, kid." Slade tells him with a palm squeezing down on a handful, heightening that anticipation. Slade can feel the way Jason's erection drags roughly against the fabric of his pants, slowly soaking through where the crown of his cock presses. He can also clearly see the way Jason's skin is already looking a lovely rosy red before he's even started.

If Slade is asked to choose one thing that he likes most when it comes to Jason, well.

This too is simple: Slade is a man that enjoys a challenge, and Jason continues to be one at every turn.

Jason's eyes flutter shut at the first hit, and the sound to come out of him is the loveliest one yet.

Slade doesn't start slow or light, he also doesn't settle into a rhythm or keep a steady pace. Slade knows exactly how Jason likes it, and he likes it best when they do not hold back on him. The kid likes each impact to have solid strength behind it. Each one definitively sharp and hard, like Slade and Roman actually mean it at all. It's leaving everything at their hands. And if Slade keeps it unpredictable, working over both his ass and the back of his upper thighs where Jason is padded, Jason just goes completely pliable to it.

For any other sub, Slade would develop a rhythm or at least have some resemblance of a sequence that they can pick up on. But Jason doesn't want one, has never once needed one to cope with the pain. He likes it best when he gets to focus on the sting of each hit, have the hurt linger until it's the only thing he feels.

This is supposed to be a treat above all.

Slade isn't prone to compliments or praise the way Roman is but he always rewards Jason when the kid's been good. And he's been so good tonight.

Demonstrating patience in spades. Here's what a lot of dominants do not understand, getting a submissive to serve doesn't mean submission in itself. It's the intent and the willingness behind the act to serve that makes somebody a submissive. And Jason isn't just willing, he is eager for it.

Jason gives a full body jostle on the next few hits, can't help but groan, all long and low and breathy, as the edges of the leather strap across his chest keep rubbing at his nipples, leaving them hard and sore and swollen.

He is panting wetly, and even when he's not being told to count out loud, Slade knows the kid is doing so inside of his head.

One hand clutching at Slade's pant legs, grip flexing reflexively, going bone white on every count.

Slade doesn't stop in full, he pauses to run a hand down between his crack, rough pads of his fingertips brushing over the thin narrow seat of the leather harness that digs and rubs up against his hole with each motion. Slade grins at the way Jason's hole clenches and quivers at the teasing touch, at the way Jason sucks in a breath and holds it inside of his chest as he wonders if Slade will work two thick fingers inside of him like he wants it.

He's so fucking responsive, yelping loudly when Slade simply pulls his hand away, leeching heat from his skin before Roman comes in with the paddle to spank him just as hard as before.

"And how many are we at, sweetheart?" Roman asks as the paddle in his hand connects again with Jason's ass.

When Jason whines out the correct number, Roman commends that with another spank. He goes over the same spots that Slade does, builds upon that dizzying layer of pain with his own. It's about hurting, not harming. And they have done this enough times that Roman knows precisely how much is too much when it comes to Jason's threshold for pain tolerance.

Slade's hand settles between Jason's shoulder blades, drifts up to scratch at the short strands of his hair at the back of his neck before dragging back down. He never lifts his hands from Jason's skin, and every point of contact is an anchor as Jason drifts. His breathing coming deeper and quicker, his body drawing into one long tense line. Slade doesn't even need to check to know Jason has already came where he is still over his knees.

With Roman's last spank over the burning red of Jason's cheeks, the back of his thighs a matching shade, he comes around the other side to crouch down so he can look at Jason's face. His pants are clearly tented where he's hard and straining against the zipper.

"Still with us, baby?" Roman asks as he reaches out with one hand to tip Jason's chin up.

The answer is in the slack line of Jason's jaw, his mouth a perfect 'o' where the most tempting of noises were falling free with each spank. It's in his eyes, bright and wet and unfocused. The pretty blue-greens all rimmed with red like he's about to cry from the onslaught of just how good it all feels.

Every pinch, every caress, every bite when his Master and Sir finally sink the dull edges of their teeth into him to mark him all up.

Roman drags a thumb across the swell of Jason's bottom lip. Whether it's to draw his thumb into his mouth to suck at it or to loll out his tongue to lave at the digit, Jason doesn't react at all.

It's the rush of adrenaline to end in a crash of endorphins.

It's Jason easing perfectly into subspace, and latching on to every last touch from their hands.

Jason doesn't need this.

He just really, really wants it.

It has taken him a long time to come to an understanding for himself. He is not making up for any dysfunction, he is not dependent on this dynamic with them to function in life. Pain he can endure. Humiliation too. But this is not about that even if there is a good part of it that these two things make up. When he hands over this power, it is an active choice. One that he makes for himself. He doesn't need anyone else to understand it, but just that in itself is a very powerful act.

In subspace, Jason shuts off completely.

Soaking in the pain they inflict, accepting the totality of their attention, concentrating on placing his complete trust in the hands of his Master and Sir.

Every last touch of Slade's hands across his body brings him further, and every measured fall of Roman's paddle against his skin gets him higher. Strip away everything, and it's total submission. He has no concern for himself, having already given that up to them too.

It's a long ascending rush.

It's a swift hard fall.

It's akin to being suspended in mid air. And, floating. Flying in a space where there's just him and them in existence.

It comes to him in bite-sizes.

It's a lot to take in all at once, so Jason doesn't. He takes it all in, one thing at a time. It's carefully measured, and it gives him the same impression as being hand-fed by his doms. He's okay with that. They know his limits, they also know how to test them.

Slade's mouth is at his neck, sucking bruises high up against the hollow of his throat. Jason responds to it, turning into it.

Roman's hand is at his tit, pulling and twisting at a nipple caught between two of his fingers. Jason reacts to it, gasping with it as Roman yanks again.

His focus is shot to hell when he can feel everything so intensely. There are both of Slade's hands at his ass, fingers digging into the flesh as he spreads his cheeks apart. And Jason can feel how much he is twitching for it, wet around his rim and dripping from his hole. He can't even be certain if that's lube trickling out of him or someone's cum.

He only knows that he's ready for whatever they decide to give him. And if that's the slide of Roman's cock between his lips to fill out his mouth and throat while Slade slams home then he wants that more than anything. And if that's Slade and Roman taking turns to come inside of him, a bulge where they drive into him, again then again until they can see his lower abdomen swell with their release then he wants that too.

Jason comes out of subspace completely at the press of Roman's cock against his entrance where Slade is already so far seated inside of him he thinks he can taste the man's cock at the back of his throat.

"You've been absolutely splendid." Roman breathes out on a harsh rasp.

It's a lot but it's not everything they have to give. And Jason intends to have that too.

He cants his pelvis and relaxes himself for Roman, to have him slide balls deep inside of him as well. It's a perfect set, to have them both buried so deeply inside of the tight hot clutch of him. The stretch burns and it only gets worse as Roman fills him up to the brim, sheathing into him in full. He shakes around them, unable to clench down.

The thick girth of the base of his cock in combination with Slade's, and Jason isn't sure he knows how to breathe out again.

It makes him want more.

The touch of their skin to his, their sweat dripping down on him. He wants the flood of their saliva inside of his mouth as they take and take and take from him.

"Wrap your arms around me." Slade murmurs to him, and Jason can feel the graze of Slade's trimmed beard against the shell of his ear. His body reacts before his mind even begins to interpret what is being said, his arms circling the back of Slade's neck so he can find purchase where there really isn't any besides the heat of the cocks he's impaled on.

There isn't a single spot in him that isn't thoroughly brutalized. Pleasure like the spark of a live wire running up along the line of Jason's spine as he arches into the slam of Roman's cock against the deepest part of him, Slade pulling out halfway while Roman's hips stay, pressing flushed against the burning curve of his ass.

His prostate feels every thrust and grind of their cocks keenly. The two of them keeping up a pace that leaves Jason without a single thought in his mind.

It's euphoric, it's something else entirely to be drawn out of subspace in a manner like this.

Blinking bleary eyes at a dark wet spot on his pillowcase where he drooled into it, Jason remembers waking up in a proper bed.

He also remembers the wince he lets out as he feels one of their hands groping at his bare ass.

"Go back to sleep."

It's a rough drawl, the kind that Slade only sounds like when he isn't deep asleep. Jason doesn't think he's ever told the man that he likes it. Slade's grip squeezes his ass again, and Jason feels it. Jason knows exactly how it goes, that he probably isn't about to be sitting down properly for at least a week straight. And he has to bite down on the inside of his cheeks to keep from sounding so fucking blissed out from it as he lets out a grumble in response.

"I would if I could but it seems like someone won't stop molesting me while I sleep."

Slade's chuckle draws closer, and Jason can feel the bed on his right side dip with the movement.

It's a click of the lamp on the bedside table that has them both wincing at the sudden flood of light in the room. From the left of him, Roman lifts his head from the pillow and if looks could kill, well. Neither one of them would live long.

"I've got an earlier morning than the both of you so I'd think long and hard before I open my mouth again if I was you."

Except, Jason can't help it, he has to ask: "Is that a promise?"

Roman doesn't reply to him, simply reaches over to turn off the light before his hand comes down on the swell of Jason's ass, hard.

Jason's voice breaks with the shriek he lets out in the dark.

Blinking bleary eyes at his pillow cover again, Jason wakes up once again. There is a stream of sunlight coming from the living room where the bedroom door is left opened.

There is also the insistent little buzz of his cell phone vibrating against the top of the bedside table. He moves, reaching over for it, and his entire body feels worked over. He is tender in all the places he expects and aching in a few more. He doesn't try to turn over, has done this enough times to know that if he tries, he'll be fighting back tears.

The bed is empty on both sides, the sheets cool where it would've been warm if they stayed.

The first few times, he cried. Openly sobbed and wailed as it all came rushing back at him. The next few times he ended up wrecking a few of Roman's playrooms. He knew he was unpredictable at best, it was why he wasn't any dom's favourite. For a long time, he thought he was okay with that. He wasn't. Not by a long shot. It was repeat exposure, security in their consistency, attention given in abundance by them both.

When Roman and Slade sat him down after a scene and asked him if he wanted to do this for a duration that extended well beyond a session in a club, Jason said _yes_.

That was almost half a year ago.

He is turning off the alarm they set into his phone when it vibrates again.

It's a text message from Roman:

> time to get up, your shift is in another hour. check the usual spots. i'll see you at Slade's tonight.

He gets out of bed, and heads for the connecting bathroom.

It's part of the routine they set for him. The food on the counter with Saran wrap pulling over top, a lunch made and packed and left in the fridge. Jason deliberately averts his eyes from the mirror for the bathroom counter, sees his clothes all laid out for him. There is the cashmere sweater Slade bought for him last Christmas, the one with an especially high collar that can hide the ring of hickeys wrapped all the way around like a choker worn tight to the throat. There is also one of Roman's watches, thick and expensive, to cover the bruises around his wrists that he doesn't even recall from last night.

A cock cage on top of a pair of tailored pants.

And of course, a tube of soothing cream for his ass sitting at the very top of the neat little pile.

It's automatic as Jason responds:

> Yes, Master.

And with that, he also sends a picture of himself as he is.

Just as they have left him, in nothing but their marks.


End file.
